Love Always, Chloe Jayne

Okay. I am not here. You do not see me sitting behind this monitor (in my robe no less) typing away on this infernal keyboard. You don’t. You know you don’t. I am merely a figment of the collective imagination of the blogosphere. Agreed? Good.

Firstly - My friend got my shipment yesterday (BTW, Cher, thanksfor calling at 7:30 AM to let me know. luvyabunchesreallymeanit ) so photos of new LACJ bags should be forthcoming.

Secondly - as written in a previous post, I was a complete computerphobe before 2 years ago, right? One of my phobias since I’ve gotten the computer is that something would happen to it - that I would somehow break it. I have exercised extreme caution with this piece of technology taking great pains not to download any malicious software or viruses or bump it wrong and I make sure I shut it down when I’m finished with it. One of my hard fast rules has also been that there will be no food or drink near the computer, for fear of spillage. And what did I do this morning?

Broke my own rule, sat down with a cup of tea, put said tea on my desk, leaned forward to look at something and low and behold when I leaned back, I dumped the ENTIRE CUP OF TEA into the keyboard.

PANIC! MAYHEM! MAJOR FREAK OUT!

I did what all good computer geeks do! I jumped up, ran for a towel, tried to absorb as much of the liquid as possible, and then, turned the thing upside down and whacked the hell out of it till narey a drop of fluid dripped! Then, just for safe measure, I took it out into the commons, and slung it about over my head, lasso style, for a few minutes.

It seems to be working fine for now. Heart attack prevented. But if you suddenly see my typing doing this —-> ;w3p098pasn;cjnasli8ru[M:OYS)E(*&p98UQ2WENASMNF<—–I swear, it isn’t me.

150 hours has expired and Scott is in town. He called when his flight landed, text-ed me from the cab, called again from his hotel and is now busy in a meeting, but assured me he will call when it’s over.

We’re going out for our third date tonight. He says that its actually our seventh, because 4 hour phone calls constitute a date, but I disagree. It isn’t a phone call until it’s past 7 hours at least, and even then I would think it depends solely upon the context of the conversation. Wouldn’t you agree?

Today has been a wonderfully productive day, but my loft is a mess. I have fabric strewn and draped everywhere, and sewing notions and jewelry findings and… wait… how did that empty yogurt container end up in my “in” box? Hmmm… pesky elves!

So, I wanted to take a break before I clean up, and surf a bit.

Thanks to everyone who dropped my friend a line yesterday. Good people really do exist out there and she was so very touched.

We’re going to see a movie tonight. Spiderwick Chronicles. NO! DO NOT TELL ME ABOUT IT! I’ve been dying to see it since it came out, so don’t spoil it for me

Scott is in town until Monday morning, so it’s sure to be an exciting and interesting weekend.

Call me old fashioned but I’m just not feeling the whole “have him over to your place” vibe yet. Maybe before the weekend is out, but not yet. I still have these safety zones ya know? I mean, its not that I’m even remotely afraid of him or anything like that. I’m not, in the least. In fact, I feel so comfortable around him, and talking to him that I find myself having internal conversations questioning the reality of it all. But I don’t want things to progress too quickly, if that makes sense. And I sort of like the mystery of it all - being picked up for work, or meeting at a coffee house, instead of here, in my sanctuary.

He says he’s got a suprise for me. I wander what it is? OH! Maybe he’s psychic and brought me a new keyboard, you know, just in case.

I’m off tonight and have the short shift tomorrow and Friday night because I’ll have a huge private party Saturday all to myself. That should be fun. OH! wait, incoming text.

Awwww, my latest message reads:

“It is unbearable torture to be this close to you and not be able to see your face! Abandon your work and meet me for coffee? I’m begging with puppy dog eyes. You can’t see them, but they are puppy-doggish.”

Hmmmm should I go? I do have this mess to clean up. Aww puppy dog eyes. How can I resist?

Dear blogosphere, gone for coffee. Be back … later.

Love always,

Chloe Jayne